Hijacked
by tricksysauce
Summary: "And, when he was captured, Peeta Mellark's love for Katniss Everdeen was the most potent weapon the Capitol had." How does the Capitol manage to break Peeta's love for Katniss?


**hijack |ˈhīˌjak|(also highjack )**

_verb [with object]_

- take over something and use it for a different purpose

.

Peeta Mellark loved Katniss Everdeen unceasingly from the time they were small children.

Peeta Mellark's love for Katniss Everdeen drove him to save her from starvation, despite retaliation from his mother.

Peeta Mellark's love for Katniss Everdeen made them contenders in their first Games, before they even set foot in the Arena.

Peeta Mellark's love for Katniss Everdeen kept her safe from innumerate obstacles inside the Arena, saved her life before she even knew what he was doing.

Peeta Mellark's love for Katniss Everdeen made the trick with the berries real. Made it believable.

Peeta Mellark's love for Katniss Everdeen made Seneca Crane save their lives.

Peeta Mellark's love for Katniss Everdeen was almost enough to stop the Quarter Quell.

Almost.

But, even still, Peeta Mellark's love for Katniss Everdeen was the spark that lit the rebellion. Peeta Mellark's love for Katniss Everdeen made her a household name, someone to root for. Peeta Mellark's love for Katniss Everdeen made her the Mockingjay.

And, when he was captured, Peeta Mellark's love for Katniss Everdeen was the most potent weapon the Capitol had.

.

The first thing that Peeta thinks when he rouses is Katniss.

A panic surges through him and he begins to thrash wildly before his eyes even open. He attempts to rise and realizes quickly that he is tied down to something. Movement is impossible.

Peeta takes a deep breath and opens his eyes. Surveys the scene.

He is strapped to a board. To call it a bed would be doing the long, thick piece of wood a kindness. His hands are bound in silver handcuffs, attached to the sides of the board. His feet are in a similar situation at the bottom.

His head is the only part of his body that can move.

Peeta raises it, looks left to right. The room is bare and white, lit by several fluorescent panels in a ceiling that is hopelessly high above his head. There is no door that he can visibly see.

In fact, Peeta can't see any way in or out.

It's as if he (and the board and the cuffs) materialized in the room.

He starts to breathe a little more heavily. He knows that Katniss sometimes seeks out small places to hide in, but, ever since he almost bled to death in a crevice beneath several layers of mud, Peeta does not like to be confined. He wants space to move. He even sleeps in his living room, where the layout is more spread out and he has close access to the door. To the outside.

There's not very much space in here.

Peeta stops breathing and then starts again; forcing himself to take five deep inhales. _Get it together, Mellark_, he tells himself. _Where are you? What happened?_

_Where is Katniss?_

The air clears his mind and he begins to look a little harder. To really see. Katniss has taught him many things, but one of the most useful is to really observe his surroundings. To assess them for usefulness, not just beauty. Her instincts, honed from years of hunting, allow her to see small helpful details in a large scene. A crushed flower means an animal might have been nearby. A hint of a footprint in the mud may mean an enemy.

So Peeta looks.

The walls are made of cement, painted white. He can see a bit of gray peeking through at the corners, where a few flecks of paint have chipped off. His handcuffs are silver, but the ones on his feet have small dots that blink red and yellow. The ceiling is over thirty feet above him. The floor is smooth and white as well. There is a drain in the corner.

And, on the wall directly in front of him, about five feet above the ground, there is a small circle. It's white, too, but slightly discolored.

It speaks to Peeta.

"Mr. Mellark," it blares. "Good evening."

Peeta starts, his ears ringing as the sharp voice pierces his eardrums. _How long have I been out? How long has it been since I have heard anything?_ Peeta pushes the thoughts out of his mind and voices the most important question: "Where is Katniss?"

The speaker ignores him. "Expect a visitor in ten minutes."

"Who? Where is Katniss? Where am I? Where is Katniss?!" Peeta gets louder and more desperate with every question. His voice is hoarse, like he hasn't spoken or drank in days.

No one answers.

"HELLO! ANSWER ME! WHERE AM I?" Peeta bellows. "WHERE IS KATNISS? TELL ME WHERE KATNISS IS! KATNISS! KATNISS!"

Nothing.

"KATNISS!"

"SHUT UP, brainless."

Peeta starts. This voice didn't come from the speaker. And it sounds oddly familiar – "Johanna?" Peeta calls tentatively.

"Peeta," the voice calls back. Peeta listens carefully, recognizes that sarcastic tinge that characterizes the District 7 victor's voice. "I'm… glad to hear you're awake."

He isn't used to hearing hesitancy from Johanna Mason. "Where are we?" he asks, though he already knows the answer.

"In the Capitol."

The rest goes unspoken. Peeta knows, implicitly, that they are in a prison. That if he's here, in the Capitol, shackled to a bed, he will likely never get out.

"Where are the others?" Peeta asks, tentatively, unsure if he wants to know the answer. He holds his breath, fingers drumming on the smooth wood.

"They got out," Johanna says. "They were rescued."

The relief he feels is so overwhelming, so immediate, that Peeta almost loses consciousness. Katniss escaped. Katniss was rescued. Katniss is not in the Capitol, tied to a board.

Katniss is free.

"Listen, Peeta," Johanna begins, her voice rising with urgency, "I…"

But whatever she is going to say is caught off, turned into a blood-curling scream.

Relief for Katniss is pushed away. Fear for Johanna takes its place, moving in swiftly and strongly. "Johanna!" he screams, struggling against his restraints. "Johanna!" Red welts appear on his wrists and ankles, flecks of blood decorating the wooden board as his skin rubs away. "Johanna!"

Just then, the lights overhead go out and Peeta is plunged into all-consuming the darkness. The effect is so immediate, so shocking, that Peeta stops screaming. His heartbeat quickens, races, his ears perk up as he tries to hear. "Hello?" he asks. His voice has dropped to a whisper.

A burst of humming and then a screen appears, projected on the wall to his right.

Peeta sees Johanna, screaming and flailing as four Peacekeepers hold her down and a fifth holds her head underwater in a large bucket. She comes up screaming, every time, and is shoved back under the water for longer and longer. She goes under five, ten times, until her open throat catches a mouthful of water and she starts to choke and cough.

"Stop," Peeta whispers, feeling sick. "Stop. STOP!" He finds his voice and starts to thrash again, the small cuts on his wrist open deeper. Blood flows in earnest now, trickling towards his torso. "STOP! JOHANNA! JOHANNA!"

The Peacekeepers hold her under again, for so long that Peeta thinks she won't come back up. He stops struggling and only stares, horrified. His pulse is throbbing through the wounds on his extremities.

They pull her back and she falls, limp. They drag her back to her board, which has been turned upright. They strap her to the board and move the bucket under her body. Place her feet in it. Drop in two wires.

The speaker on the wall hums. "Mr. Mellark."

It takes Peeta a full minute to find his voice. "Stop hurting her!" he demands. He is proud that his voice is strong. Unwavering.

The speaker does not care. "Mr. Mellark," it continues. "The situation is simple. If you answer the question truthfully, Ms. Mason will not be harmed. If you lie, Ms. Mason will be hurt."

"Don't listen to them, Peeta! Don't tell them anything!" Johanna screams. Peeta watches as a Peacekeeper hits her over the head with a sturdy black bat. Her head snaps forward and he can see, even through the grain of the screen, that she is bleeding. But, still Johanna raises her head back up. Defiant to the last. She turns her eyes towards Peeta, shakes her head. Spits out a wad of blood onto the floor.

To Peeta, it's not even a question. Katniss is safe. She cannot be harmed. He will answer the Capitol's questions.

He's not even sure what he would have to lie about.

"What did the Rebels plan?" the voice asks.

"Rebels? Who are they? I don't know anything about the Rebels," Peeta says back steadily. He looks straight ahead, staring down the speaker.

"Wrong answer."

A hum, a buzz, and then a scream as electricity passes through the wires and into the water bucket. Johanna screams again, her body thrashing and flailing as the current courses through her veins.

"Stop!" Peeta yells. "Please stop! I don't know anything about the Rebels, I swear!"

The voice has moved on to a new question, cool and collected. "Who made the plan to destroy the Arena? Who helped Katniss Everdeen escape?"

"I don't know," Peeta says, his words tumbling over each other in his urgency speak. "I didn't know about any plan! Katniss didn't know about any plan!"

"Wrong answer."

The hum starts again.

This time, Peeta's screams join Johanna's.

.

He's not sure how long he's been knocked out when he wakes again.

This time, his head is strapped down, too. He can only see straight ahead.

But he can still hear.

The speaker hums. "What was Katniss Everdeen's plan?"

"I don't know!"

He can't see.

But he can still hear.

.

He keeps the darkness at bay by thinking about Katniss.

Katniss, in the first Arena. Appearing on the stream, bathed in a golden light.

Katniss, in District 12. All skin and bones. Huddled against a tree in the rain, with eyes like flint.

Katniss, on stage. Spinning, laughing, glowing.

Katniss, on the train. Her body warm in his arms.

Katniss, at school. Catching his gaze, then dropping it. Bending over to pick a dandelion.

She is his constant companion. She is his reason for living.

She keeps him warm when Johanna's screams make him so, so cold.

.

Time loses meaning. Peeta's not sure how long he has been there: a day, four, ten. He is only conscious when the speaker is on. He is only conscious when they need to talk to him.

Whenever he's conscious, someone is screaming.

Peeta has been left remarkably alone. His only wounds are self-inflicted, his wrists and ankle rubbed so raw that they ache ever single time he moves.

He's glad he cannot actually see any part of his body. That he cannot actually see anything but that slightly discolored patch where the speaker is, straight ahead of him.

One day, he wakes to find himself in a different room altogether. He is sitting upright, has been bound into a chair. His body is still restrained, but he can see, for the first time in a long while.

He glances down, assessing his body for damage.

His wrists are indeed rubbed raw. On his left wrist, Peeta catches a glimpse of white that looks suspiciously like bone.

He looks away. Looks down.

His thighs are thin, indicating that he has been imprisoned, with little food, for a long time. He's so thin, in fact, that his prosthetic appears unnaturally wide.

Peeta draws his eyes from his body. Focusing on the injuries just makes them hurt more. He surveys the scene around him.

He's been moved to a richly appointed room. A library of sorts. The chair is set up, facing a magnificent desk.

_Mahogany_, Peeta notes wryly.

There is a tall chair across from him, richly appointed with velvet. It's empty, but Peeta thinks that he knows whom it is for.

Minutes pass, the silence stretches on and on. Until, finally, a door opens and Peeta hears footsteps crossing the carpeted floor.

Quick, self-assured.

Sure enough, President Snow soon settles down into the chair across from him.

"Peeta," the president says. His voice is low and firm.

Peeta doesn't know what to say. For once, he doesn't trust his voice. So he just nods, never taking his eyes from Snow's.

"I have something to show you, if you don't mind." Snow hits a button on the desk and a panel disappears, a thin television screen slowly rising from its emptiness.

Peeta doesn't want to break eye contact with Snow, but he does when he hears, against all odds, Katniss' voice coming from the screen.

She is there.

She is alive.

Peeta hasn't seen this footage before, knows that it is something new. Knows that it means that Katniss is somewhere in Panem, alive, talking, breathing.

She's in a head-to-toe bodysuit, a lethal-looking bow in her hand. Her hair is back in its trademark braid, with a few wisps loose and blowing in the wind. Her cheeks are smudged with dirt but her eyes are blazing with life.

Peeta never wants to stop looking at her. It takes him several seconds to draw his eyes from her face to take in the scene around her.

She's on a battlefield, it seems, standing on top of a roof. Behind her, a building burns.

Peeta's heart drops and he begins to sweat. Is Snow showing him Katniss' death? He wouldn't put it past the Capitol to have filmed the death of the Mockingjay.

Abruptly, the clip cuts off.

Peeta realizes he hasn't heard a word she has said.

"Your fiancée is proving rather troublesome," Snow says. The television starts to move back into the table.

Peeta doesn't miss the tense Snow uses. Katniss is alive. She is still alive, and she is still proving troublesome.

His heart warms. That's his Katniss.

"She is well-guarded," Snow continues. "Of course, we missed a large opportunity to kill her here. If we had known she was in District 8, I can assure you that we would have sent in heavier artillery."

Peeta still does not speak.

Snow adjusts his weight in the seat. "However, I prefer to look at this as an opportunity. We know that Katniss Everdeen is alive and somewhat well. She is no longer being kept under lock and key. That means there is an opportunity to make her death really… something."

Silence stretches.

"I understand that you have not been particularly useful in providing information about the Rebels. No matter. I have figured out a new purpose for you."

"You're going to kill Katniss Everdeen."

.

Several more periods of pain and darkness pass before anyone comes to make good on Snow's plan.

"You're going to kill Katniss Everdeen."

The words have haunted Peeta's nightmares.

He would never kill Katniss.

But he knows the Capitol.

Knows their capabilities.

Knows that Snow has unlimited resources at his disposal and will do whatever it takes to make Peeta kill Katniss Everdeen

All Peeta can do is fight.

.

During the waking hours, he reminds himself of everything he loves about Katniss. Ammunition, for the inevitable onslaught.

He thinks about her rare smile, her love for her family. Her devotion to the needy. The way her eyes crinkle when she laughs and the way she slurps her food, eating quickly, never sure when a meal might disappear.

He remembers her self-assuredness in the woods, her clear voice when she sang under breath as they put together the plant book.

He consoles himself by rubbing his fingers together, thinking of the feeling of her hair between them.

The cycles pass and he begins to think, to hope beyond hope, that Snow has thought of another plan. Or that, somehow, impossibly, another target has presented itself.

That Katniss is safe.

But one day he wakes up in a new room. There's a large screen in front of his face. He's strapped to a chair. IVs run into his left arm.

The screen hums to life and Peeta recognizes himself and Katniss in their first Arena. In the cave. He's lying on the ground and she is spoon-feeding him broth.

His heart warms.

Then, his arm begins to burn.

Something courses through his brain.

Peeta feels confusion.

Fear.

Then anger.

.

He begins to test himself, work his memory:_ What do I know?_

_I know my name is Peeta Mellark._

_I know that I am from District Twelve._

_I know that I love Katniss Everdeen._

.

They double his IVs, sending two doses of venom into his blood stream with each memory.

It still doesn't work.

They have to show each memory two times, three times, to Peeta, upping the amount of venom each and every time.

Finally, they show him the cave again.

Katniss drugs him to go get the medicine.

Peeta doesn't feel love. He doesn't feel worried.

He feels angry.

His fingers, splayed out on the arms of the chair, itch for a knife.

.

He knows that some memories have been compromised, so he concentrates on the ones the Capitol hasn't gotten to yet.

Katniss in class, nose splattered with ink as she takes notes.

Katniss at the back door of the bakery, squirrel slung over her shoulder.

Katniss on the train, pressed close.

_I know that I love Katniss Everdeen._

.

He's been through at least twenty rounds of treatment.

He knows what each round brings. A brief glimmer of warmth as he views Katniss, before the memory is replaced by fear and vengeance.

Still, he hangs on to his secret memories. School. Bakery. Train.

_I know my name is Peeta Mellark._

_I know that I am from District Twelve._

_I know that I love Katniss Everdeen._

One day, the screen hums on. The picture is darker than usual.

Peeta can barely see, has to listen closely to hear what's happening, to understand what footage he is viewing.

He hears himself whisper, "Always."

The fear starts before the venom, this time.

.

President Snow stands before him, eyes unblinking. "Tell me about yourself."

"I know that my name is Peeta Mellark. I know that I am from District Twelve."

A beat.

"I know that I want to kill Katniss Everdeen."


End file.
